


across the memory and the wave

by bravenclawesome



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Based on a Tumblr Post, Cliffhangers, Execution, Explicit Torture, I Blame Tumblr, Inspired By Tumblr, Interrogation, Love Confessions, M/M, Madness, Magic Revealed, Merlin's Magic Revealed, Physical Abuse, Torture, Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt, Uther Finds Out About Merlin's Magic, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, Violence, Whipping, Whump, character whump, slightly fudged season 1 chronology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-04-08 08:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4297683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravenclawesome/pseuds/bravenclawesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Merlin burst into the council room and shouted <i>It was me, it was me who used magic to cure Gwen’s father</i>, Arthur’s first instinct had been to laugh.</p><p>Then Merlin had lifted a hand and shattered a window, using the pieces to create a shimmering glass dragon in mid-air, and all the while, his eyes had flamed a bright, unmistakable gold.</p><p>inspired by <a href="http://merlins-earmuffs.tumblr.com/post/115454015527/ofkingsandlionhearts-merlin-au-it-was-in-that">this merthur au</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic originated from [an AU gifset](http://merlins-earmuffs.tumblr.com/post/115454015527/ofkingsandlionhearts-merlin-au-it-was-in-that) that tugged at my angsty heartstrings. It was a long time coming, but I've finally finished it!
> 
> I had to fudge the chronology of Series 1 slightly to suit this fic, because I couldn't think of a good moment for Merlin to reveal his magic that hadn't been done already. Please forgive me, and I hope you enjoy the story nonetheless.
> 
> The title of this story was taken from [Edwin Muir's poem "Merlin"](http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/merlin/), which incidentally was also the poem from which the episode title "The Diamond of the Day" came.
> 
> **Please see trigger warnings in end notes.**

Merlin screamed.

The shrill, piercing sound rang through the room and reverberated off the walls, until it seemed as if at least ten other people were crying out in agony along with him, echoing him. He thrashed helplessly on the ground, his wrists tied behind his back and his legs bound by iron chains.

“Please stop…I’ll do _anything… __”_

There was a resounding _crack_ , and he gave another yelp of pain. Arthur wanted to close his eyes, but doing so only made Merlin’s screams all the more horrifying than they already were. He wanted nothing more than to flee and be violently sick in the privacy of his own chambers, or perhaps the woods if he could just run far enough. He tried to turn his head, just to look away for the slightest second, but one of the castle guards holding him back forced it back to its original position, pressing his face to unyielding varnished wood so his eye was aligned with the crack between the double doors leading to the council chambers.

It was impossible to struggle. The slightest movement of his arm sent a sharp pain running from wrist to shoulder, and the smallest twitch in his foot earned him a step on the toes of his boots. There had been a struggle earlier, whereupon Arthur had tried to enter the room where Merlin was being held, and was promptly forced to his knees, pushed until his torso bent forward at an awkward angle, and pulled by the arms so that they stretched as high as they could go behind his back. Arthur had been so taken aback by his denied entry that he had had no time to react.

His position would have been laughably embarrassing under any other circumstances, but his blood was boiling too much to care. Arthur knew he had fallen right into his father’s trap. Uther had anticipated that he would come to reason with him about Merlin, and had ordered his strongest guards to forcibly restrain Arthur if he came running. And he had. And they did. And so.

 _Pathetic_. Arthur would have hit his head against the door, if not for the fact that it would immediately alert his father to his folly. He couldn’t even let Merlin know that he was nearby, couldn’t send him a signal that he was doing all he could to get him out. Or had tried, at least. But he would find a way, God help him, because he would not, could not see his friend tortured or killed for his sake.

The guards had dragged Merlin from the dungeons, shaking and gasping, at the crack of dawn for his interrogation. Prisoners were usually taken to the torture chambers to be dealt with, but Uther wanted Merlin seen to personally. He was not to be given a trial; there was no doubt in the king’s eyes that magic was a crime, and there was evidence enough to prove Merlin’s powers. There was no chair in the room for Merlin to even sit on for his interrogation. Instead, he was lying curled up on the floor as Uther and his guards loomed over him. One of the guards was carrying a whip.

Over the years, Arthur had taught himself to be immune to the _crack_ of a person’s neck as they hanged, the _schlup_ the axe made when it fell, the cries of men, women and children as they saw their homes hacked to pieces or burnt, the screams as they watched each other consumed by fire at the stake. He had trained his face to remain impassive, giving others the illusion that he was calm and collected, and most importantly, in control. The one thing that he hadn’t managed was to actually stop caring about the lives he was destroying, no matter how many times he reminded himself that he did not know these people personally, and that their deaths would have no effect on him.

It was the ability to care that was his downfall.

Merlin screamed again as the whip came down, high and agonising and so _helpless_ it tore something inside of Arthur. Every cry chipped away the cold steel of unruffled composure he had honed to perfection over the years for such situations that required no mercy. Arthur could not stop himself from thinking that Merlin wasn’t like the others. Merlin was someone who mattered to him, perhaps more than he was willing to admit.

Uther was saying something, but the words blurred together and became an unidentifiable buzz as Arthur tried to sort through his confusion. His brain simply could not compute that Merlin, who at times was a bumbling idiot, but had a kind heart that was too big for his chest and a smile that brightened the most gloomy of days, was simultaneously a sorcerer. Arthur knew sorcerers came in all shapes and sizes, and that you could never tell a person was one just from looking at them, but imagining Merlin casting spells was like trying to imagine a completely sober Gwaine, or Percival shrunk down to half his size; the notion was completely ridiculous, and simply couldn’t be done.

So when Merlin burst into the council room and shouted _It was me, it was me who used magic to cure Gwen’s father_ , Arthur’s first instinct had been to laugh. Several council members had gasped in shock, and others had even stood up, eager to point their fingers and solve the matter as soon as possible.

“I apologise on Merlin’s behalf, my lord; he may have a serious mental affliction, but rest assured I’m working on it,” Gaius had said hurriedly. Arthur remembered looking at him and seeing the stricken expression on Gaius’ face, and the way his words had tumbled over each other. The physician’s normally tranquil expression had morphed into something that looked a lot like fear, and this had given Arthur cause to doubt.

Then Merlin had lifted a hand and shattered a window, using the pieces to create a shimmering glass dragon in mid-air, and all the while, his eyes had flamed a bright, unmistakable gold.

Arthur recalled the shock crashing upon him like waves onto a shore during a violent storm. He had been so stunned that he had simply sat there while the room erupted into chaos. Uther, his face livid, had screamed at his guards to arrest Merlin at once. Merlin had not resisted; he had simply let himself be marched out of the room and into the dungeons. It was not until he had been let out that Arthur realised Merlin had been looking straight at him.

Gwen had been released immediately, but had flatly refused to procure the iron that would be used to bind Merlin’s magic. Arthur had been there with Uther when they went to visit Gwen in her cell, but had been ordered to simply stand aside and observe, despite the pleading looks Gwen had sent his way. Arthur remembered her eyes brimming with angry tears as she stood her ground, unwilling to betray her friend. _I don’t care that he’s a sorcerer,_ she had spat in Uther’s face. _He saved my father’s life, and mine. It doesn’t change anything._

But Uther’s face had remained cold. _It changes everything, you silly girl._ He had almost thrown her back into prison, but retracted the threat when one of the council members informed him of another blacksmith who lived just outside the walls of the city.

 _Crack._ Merlin let out another strangled cry as he tried to get away from the whip, and as he thrashed the hem of his breeches caught and rode up to his calves. Arthur was horrified at what he saw beneath it.

Where Merlin’s leg had previously been pale and smooth was now covered in dark red welts where the cold iron had scalded him, leaving a permanent brand that stood out, ugly against the contrast of milky skin. Arthur had previously thought it a myth that cold iron could physically burn someone who practiced magic, having never been down to the torture chambers where this punishment was usually carried out. He felt another wave of nausea, and bile rose in his throat at the sight.

“Answer my question,” said Uther. “What was your purpose for murdering my people?”

Arthur knew this technique well. Uther had taught him how to extract information out of people long ago, among other things that, according to him, were required of a good king. The trick was to be repetitive. Uther had been asking the same thing ever since Merlin had been dragged in, and every time Merlin refrained from answering, the whip came down. Arthur had not been there in the beginning stages when, presumably, Merlin had remained completely silent, but he had witnessed him crying out when the whip came down particularly harshly, and his yells afterwards had only increased in volume, each lash a reminder that he eventually had to speak, or die.

Arthur wasn’t sure whether he wanted Merlin to confess or not, but it was not for him to decide; Merlin’s lip was bloody from how his teeth had bit into them earlier, when he was trying to prevent himself from screaming, but the wild look in his eyes meant that he was going to break sometime soon.

He was right. When Merlin didn’t answer after five seconds, the guard raised his whip once more, and Merlin finally cracked; a whimper escaped his mouth as he flinched away. “I-I didn’t mean to kill anyone,” he choked out. “I only made the poultice to help – ”

“Where did you learn magic?”

“I was born with it,” Merlin said. “It’s what I am. I didn’t learn it from anyone – ”

“LIAR!” Uther shouted. His voice echoed around the room: _LIAR liar iar iar i…_

Arthur winced as the whip came down again, this time across Merlin’s left knee. Merlin cried out.

“Had you been planning on infecting the court as well?” Uther demanded. “That was your intention, was it not?” Merlin shook his head in reply, but Uther paid no heed. “Did you want to kill the king, perhaps? Or Arthur? You filthy – I order you to stop this plague at once!”

“I don’t know how to do it, I don’t know the spell – ” _crack_ , “I DON’T KNOW IT – I WOULD NEVER – ” _crack_ , “I CAN’T HURT HIM – ” The whip lashed across his thigh, and Merlin’s next words were said with a scream, “PLEASE, **_I LOVE HIM!_** ”

Arthur wasn’t sure when he had closed his eyes, but they shot open as he heard Merlin’s words. The sounds of the whip had suddenly ceased, though Arthur wasn’t sure if that was because the guard had stopped, or if he had momentarily gone deaf from shock.

_I love him._

But who was ‘him’? Surely not – 

“What did you say?” said Uther. His face had gone from purple to ashen. Arthur had never seen him look like this before, and he felt a rising sense of fear.

Merlin seemed to have realised his mistake, and the look in his eyes told Arthur he knew he had gone too far. When he spoke again, his voice was ragged. “I could never hurt your son, my lord.” He began to sob quietly. “Arthur…I’m…I’m in love with him.”

“You are _despicable_ ,” Uther spat, the colour rising to his cheeks once more and deepening with every word he spoke. “You are a filthy, lying traitor. To think a sorcerer has been serving the Crown Prince of Camelot…” A shudder passed over his features. “No. A simple hanging is too good for you. You shall be burnt at the stake.”

_“NO!”_

Arthur was hardly aware that he had spoken. He was so full of rage he could feel the blood singing through his veins. His heart felt too big for his chest all of a sudden, and it felt as if a hot fire were burning in his lungs.

A roar tore out of his throat, and the guards were so surprised, they momentarily released him. Seizing his opportunity, Arthur got up and burst through the doors, running towards the place where Merlin was lying curled up on his side, gasping for breath and wheezing with pain.

Arthur fell to his knees beside him. “Merlin, I’m here. I won’t let them hurt you, I’ll make it stop…” The words seemed to tumble out of Arthur’s mouth of their own accord. He hardly registered what he was saying, only knowing that every word of it was the utter truth. “They can’t do this to you, I’ll make my father see reason...”

Merlin’s face cracked into a feeble smile. His eyes were wide and bloodshot and his bottom lip bloody, but his expression was of relief as he looked up into Arthur’s face. Arthur held his gaze for a few seconds, a warm feeling stirring in his chest, but then Merlin went limp in his arms. He was unconscious.

Arthur looked up at Uther standing over him, blood pounding in his ears. “Look at what you’ve done to him!” he said, faintly aware that one of his hands was now cradling Merlin’s head, his fingers carding fine strands of hair. “Merlin has a kind soul, and in the short time he has been here he has done nothing but good. It is simply impossible for him to be capable of such evil – ”

“He is a sorcerer, and evil is all that they are capable of,” replied his father, his voice unwavering.

“I refuse to believe that,” said Arthur, anger flaring up inside him once again. “Father, you are a good king who only wants the best for his people, but you are ignorant when it comes to sorcery – ”

“I know far more about sorcery that you ever will,” Uther said harshly, his eyes flashing with barely contained rage. “I have seen what it can do, how it corrupts, the damage it causes. I will not tolerate such things in my kingdom for as long as I sit on this throne, and you have no right to say otherwise!”

“Are you _blind_?” Arthur got up so he and his father were eye to eye. He realised with a jolt that he was almost as tall as Uther now. “Father, Merlin saved my _life_. It explains everything – he saved me from that witch who imposed as Lady Helen, he was the first to suspect Valiant – ”

“If anyone is blind, it is you,” said Uther. “You have been charmed to believe that your manservant is on your side, but you are being foolish. Seeing you, here, having such concern for a mere servant boy…”

There it was again: a faint shiver seemed to ripple over Uther’s face, and his next words were calm, his tone meaning that this was his final decision, and there was nothing in this world that would sway him.

“Take him away,” said Uther, addressing his guards. “And the boy, too. Lock them both in separate cells. The building of the pyre will be completed before midnight, and the burning shall commence at the seventh candlemark tomorrow morning. Do not let my son out until it is over.”

“What!?” Arthur was sputtering so much he had no time to react. Six guards grabbed hold of him all at once, and a seventh approached the unconscious Merlin to pick him up. “Father, you can’t do this!” The guards began to march them towards the door. Arthur turned his head to see Merlin wake and struggle feebly, but the guards were much too strong. There was the slide of leather boots on wood as Arthur’s feet dragged across the floorboards, but no matter how hard he kicked and twisted, the men held fast. “LET US GO!”

They were already being forced out the door, but before he was led out of his father’s sight, Arthur turned his head and looked at Uther once more. “Father, I’m begging you to listen – ”

“There is nothing more to be said.” Uther’s face was cold as he cut him off. “You, Arthur, have been enchanted. Your feelings are not real, and your words are not to be trusted.”

Arthur’s breath stopped in his throat.

“Take them away.”

*

Arthur woke up with a persistent throbbing on the side of his head. The floor beneath him was cold, and he had somehow accumulated numerous scratches on his arms and legs. Slowly, the past few hours came back to him. He had struggled against the men holding him, and he had almost succeeded in getting free when he felt a sharp blow to the head…

He sat up slowly, groaning as he pressed a hand to his head. He was alone, in a cell with a high ceiling, with unyielding cold stone on three walls and thick metal bars on the fourth. Arthur crawled forward on his hands and knees to inspect the bars. They were shiny and completely free of rust, which meant smashing through them was not an option. What was worse, the gaps between the bars were to narrow for him to reach the lock on the outside.

Arthur stepped back and almost tripped on a stone tile that was jutting out at an angle from the floor. Looking up, he saw a tiny window, also barred, but there was no light coming through. He guessed it was midnight, if not the early hours of the morning. He felt sickened when he realised what this meant – Merlin’s burning was in just a few hours.

He lay on his stomach, inspecting the stone for chinks. He knew it was impossible, but he wasn’t going to sit here without even trying. He felt along the wall, putting a slight pressure on the stone to see if it would budge, inching along on his front as he moved slowly forward…

He was taken completely by surprise when one stone suddenly gave and pushed inwards. Arthur pushed again and the stone came free on the other side, revealing a hole in the wall big enough to peek through. He pressed his face to it, squinting into the gloom.

“Is anyone there?” he said, loud enough for his voice to carry a short way.

He heard a shuffling noise as the person on the other end jerked awake. Heart high in his throat, Arthur spoke again. “Merlin? Is that you?”

“A-Arthur?”

Arthur released a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding, and despite himself felt his face break out into a wide smile. “Merlin! Thank God!”

He saw Merlin’s silhouette moving towards him into the darkness, accompanied by the clink of chains. His movements were slow and sluggish with exhaustion, and he stopped short three-quarters of his way across his cell. “I can’t go any further,” he said, his voice ragged. “The chains are taut.”

“That’s all right, you’re with me,” said Arthur in a voice that he hoped was reassuring. “Listen, Merlin, I’ll find a way out of this…somehow.”

“You didn’t sound too confident just then,” Merlin joked. “Did they finally knock some sense into you with that blow to the head?”

Arthur was completely bowled over by the fact that even now, Merlin inexplicably had the temerity to poke fun at him. “Shut up, Merlin,” he replied automatically.

“Ah, still the same old prat, I see.”

There was a pause. Merlin shifted, and his chains clinked again.

“Does it hurt?” Arthur asked tentatively. “The iron, I mean.”

“Not anymore,” said Merlin. “I tempered it with magic, so it doesn’t burn now. I didn’t have the chance to, earlier, because…well, I couldn’t cast the spell in front of Uther, could I?”

Arthur swallowed. “So you can do magic, then.”

“Yes, I think we established that when I created a dragon out of shattered glass in front of the entire court. What’s your point?”

“I’m…you…” Arthur floundered about for a few seconds as he tried to string his words together in a somewhat coherent fashion. “You can’t be a sorcerer,” he said lamely. “It’s not possible.”

Merlin let out a mirthless chuckle. “Arthur, how much more evidence do you need?”

“But sorcerers are evil!” Arthur protested, the words his father had instilled in him from a young age echoing in his ears. “And you’re, well…you’re not!”

“It is not magic that makes people evil, Arthur, it’s what they choose to do with it,” Merlin said patiently. “I’ve only ever used my magic for good.”

Arthur shook his head. “Then how come…?”

“Because you were unconscious half the time, and for the other half you were simply too blind to see it.” The edge of Merlin’s mouth turned up. “It’s surprising how much people can convince themselves of something. You never believed I could be capable of casting spells and whatnot, so you inadvertently forced yourself to look the other way.”

They fell silent, and for a while, the only sounds Arthur could hear were their breathing and the distant chirping of crickets outside.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. He had meant his words to come out as neutrally as possible, but instead they sounded plaintive. Almost…hurt.

Merlin sighed. “I wanted to,” he said quietly. “I could just never seem to find the right time for it. And when I found out I was destined to protect you, well, I had more pressing matters on my mind.”

“You have a destiny?” Arthur said blankly.

“Not me, us. The dragon – never mind. The point is, our meeting wasn’t by chance. Apparently we’re incomplete without each other, or something vaguely cheesy like that.”

“So...you’ve been helping me all this time out of obligation?”

“Only in the beginning.” Merlin scratched his earlobe with his right hand. “At first I did it because it was my job as your manservant to attend to you at all times, no matter how much of a self-serving prat you were. But then I realised that you were much more than that.”

“How so?”

Merlin smiled. “You trusted me. You believed my word over that of a knight’s despite only having known me for a few days. You were willing to risk your life to fetch a flower and save mine. You helped the druid boy, and you did so many other things out of the goodness in your heart. It took a while, but I eventually realised how much I genuinely wanted you to succeed, and how much I wanted to help you on your way to greatness. Because you _will_ be great, Arthur. Great, and kind, and loved by all.”

Arthur felt a lump rising in his throat, but he forced it down to quip, “Including you, it seems.”

There was a sharp intake of breath, and Merlin looked away. “Yes,” he admitted quietly.

Arthur felt a rushing sense of tenderness towards him, and would have reached out to touch Merlin if not for the fact that they were separated by a wall. “You’ve done so much for me, and I never knew,” he breathed. “About your magic, or your feelings.”

“I didn’t do it for credit,” Merlin said.

“I know, but…were you planning on going your entire life without ever telling me?”

“I was going to, eventually. I just wasn’t sure when. And the longer it dragged on, the more difficult it got, so…”

Arthur wasn’t sure which of Merlin’s secrets they were talking about anymore, and his next words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. “I think I feel it too. For you, I mean. I – ”

“You don’t have to say it back if you don’t mean it, Arthur,” Merlin said. He didn’t sound upset, just resigned. “I’m not expecting you to.”

“But I do,” said Arthur, his heart beginning to race in his chest. “The bond we have, it goes beyond friendship, beyond…I can’t explain it. But I’m sure. I think…” He took a breath, and Merlin did too. “Wherever you heard about your destiny from, I think there is some truth in it. Our paths were destined to cross.”

It was now that his father’s words came back to him, the words that he had shouted only a few hours before. _You, Arthur, have been enchanted._

Arthur didn’t want to ask, but… “You didn't do anything to me, did you? To make me feel like this?” The words felt awkward, and he knew he was treading a line, but he simply had to know.

Merlin gasped. “I could never do that to you,” he said. “I saw how besotted you were with Sophia. I could never have dealt with you in such a pathetic state.” He looked as if he wanted to say more, but then his eyes softened. “Believe me, Arthur, I would never go to such lengths. Rest assured that your feelings are true.”

Suddenly, Merlin let out a hollow laugh. “Oh, Arthur,” he continued sardonically, “of all the places I imagined we would confess our undying love for each other, I never thought it would be through the hole in the wall of the castle dungeons. We really have the worst timing of anyone in the world.”

“I’m going to get us out of here,” Arthur insisted, but his words sounded weak even to his own ears. “I’ll think of something.”

“Don’t worry, Arthur,” Merlin said. “I’ll never leave you.”

*

“Arthur!”

The call was spoken in an urgent whisper, and the voice seemed to be coming from his left. Arthur opened his eyes and blinked several times before the ceiling of his cell swam into focus. He wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep, but apparently he had, beside the chink in the wall. He scrambled to his knees and looked through it, only to find it empty. His heart lurched.

_“Arthur!”_

He turned his head and was startled to see Gwen banging on the bars of his cell, demanding his attention. “Arthur, you must have been asleep when Merlin – he’s outside – oh, he’s going to _die_ , Arthur, you have to save him!” Her eyes were wide and frightened, and her knuckles were white where they were gripping the bars.

As soon as her words registered, Arthur was on his feet in a flash, suddenly fully awake. “Where is he?” he demanded.

“In the courtyard. They’ve already tied him to the stake, but I managed to steal some keys from the guard’s pocket and run back. I don’t think anyone saw me, their backs were all turned…I just hope I have the right one…” Gwen fumbled with the ring of metal that held a dozen glittering keys. They clinked against each other, and the sound echoed through the dungeons.

“Be quiet, someone will hear you – ”

“Don’t worry, we’re the only ones here, everyone else has gone outside to watch…” She jammed the first key into the lock, but it didn’t fit. With a groan of frustration she tried the next one, and the next, and the next…

Arthur heard a distant crackling sound coming from above, and he could feel himself paling; the pyre had been lit. “Hurry up, Gwen…”

On the sixth try, the gate unlocked and swung open. Arthur immediately enveloped Gwen in a fierce hug, but she pushed him away, whispering, “There’s no time – just _hurry!_ ”

Arthur had never run so fast. On the way out of the dungeons he picked up a sword the guards had conveniently left lying on a wooden bench. Its weight and balance wasn’t ideal, and the hilt was a bit worn down, but the blade was sharp; it had to do. Gwen wrung her hands as she ran after him, and Arthur could see that the laces of her shoes were coming undone, but neither of them paid any heed. The two of them raced up the stairs and to the main door of the citadel, which led to the courtyard where Merlin was being held.

Arthur burst out of the citadel doors with a resounding crash, sword unsheathed and in front of him to brandish at the first obstacle he would come across. There was no one at the top of the steps, but a huge crowd was gathered around an enormous pyre, with Merlin in the centre of it, bound by thick rope to a wooden stake. The flames were already licking at his bare feet before him, and had burnt off his clothes at the sides so that they hung off him like a beggar’s rags. His neckerchief was gone.

“MERLIN!”

Merlin looked up. The tips of his dark hair had been singed off from the heat, which made his face look gaunt and his cheekbones stand out more than usual. His mouth moved: what was he saying? Was he speaking to Arthur, in the hope that Arthur could read his lips? Why wasn’t he screaming in pain, like all the other sorcerers before him who had suffered the same fate? And was it a trick of the light, or was the fire reflecting a golden colour in his eyes?

_WHOOSH._

The citizens cried out in shock and fear as the fire suddenly reached an unnatural height, as suddenly as a wild horse rearing upon its hind legs at the sight of a viper. The citizens fell back as it formed a column of flame as high as the castle itself, completely shrouding Merlin from sight. Gwen grabbed on to his arm as she let out a cry of alarm, her mouth falling open, and Arthur heard his heart skip a beat from where he could hear it pounding in his ears. He could barely see the wood the servants had gathered to fuel the pyre, but it had to be there, because there had to be _something_ the fire was burning…

Arthur raced forward, descending the steps to the courtyard two at a time with unnerving agility. “Out of my way!” he shouted, and the spectators were far too shocked to argue as they moved aside and let him through. Uther was shouting orders from his parapet, but no one was listening. Everyone had turned to watch the Crown Prince of Camelot running towards the wall of fire like a maniac, and the king’s voice was lost amidst the commotion.

Arthur made his way to the front, but as soon as he took a step forward, the fire began to change colour. First it turned green, then blue, then a blinding white. The heat was almost too much for Arthur to bear, and he threw an arm over his face to shield it from the flames. For a moment, he thought he saw a smoky figure appear in the middle of the wall of fire…

Then, all of a sudden, all of it vanished. The temperature dropped, and Arthur felt shivers overcome him at the sudden change. It was as if the pyre and the heated air around it had been doused by an invisible bucket of ice-cold water. The flames were gone, without even a trace of smoke to indicate that they had been there in the first place. The firewood had been reduced to a mass of ashes.

On his way out of the castle, Arthur had visualized Merlin’s rescue; he had imagined himself pulling an unconscious Merlin out of the pyre and carrying him down, then vaulting onto a horse amidst his father’s shouts of protest and riding away, as far and as fast as he could. But what he saw instead stopped him short.

Arthur felt his eyes widen and the colour drain from his face. His hand lost its grip on his sword, and it fell to the ground with a clang of metal before lying still.

The people in the courtyard began to murmur all around him.

“What happened?”  
“…Impossible…”  
“But he was just there!”  
“…Vanished into thin air, just like that…”

Arthur could do nothing but stare.

In the middle of the pyre, there were no charred remains, no scraps of clothing, no unburnt bits of rope…

And Merlin was gone.


	2. through the gate of memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur goes into shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this a while back when trying to think up a sequel, but wasn't sure in what direction I could take it so that it wouldn't end up turning into a massively complicated plot. But here's some angst. *shoves in your direction*

The pyre stood tall, foreboding, and completely unscathed before him, surrounded by a pile of ashes. The courtyard was silent as the citizens looked on with mixed expressions of shock and awe; even Uther, who stood proudly at his parapet, had leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge, to watch. 

“No,” Arthur said blankly. “No.”

He stepped forward, dreamlike, towards the place Merlin had been barely moments ago, though he felt oddly detached, as if the pain and shock he should be feeling had been displaced onto someone else. He waded through the ashes, crushing the small grey flakes into powder beneath his feet, and ascended the wooden platform. He registered someone calling his name, but the sound was muffled, as if the person was speaking into a pillow. Even colour seemed to have been muted, and the crimson cloaks of the Camelot guards standing aside looked dull.

Arthur continued to slowly walk across the platform, biding his time, dreading the reality he knew he had to face. He paused when he reached the stake at its centre. He reached out to touch it, and his hands came away with wooden splinters and blood he knew belonged to Merlin. Evidently, Merlin’s wrists had been tied so soon after being chained that his wounds had reopened.

Arthur’s hand began to shake as he held it up before his eyes, followed by the rest of his body. It wasn’t the kind of shaking he felt when he was angry and ready to lash out, but one that left him truly helpless; it had him hunching over and grasping the stake for support, not caring when more bits of wood sliced into his hand as he continued to shudder violently. He looked up towards the citadel, where he knew Gwen would be standing, and saw her looking back with tears in her wide, dark eyes. He tried to step towards her, but his trembling legs would not obey; with a _crash_ he fell face-forward, landing on his side, but too numb to feel the pain searing through his arm.

The crowd gasped. Gwen ran down the steps, made her way through the dumbstruck people, and was by his side in an instant. “Arthur,” she said, kneeling and cradling his face in her hands so he was forced to look directly at her, “Arthur, please, you’re scaring me.”

“He said he would never leave me,” Arthur whispered. Then, louder, _“He said he would never leave me!”_

Gwen let out a cry as Arthur grasped her by the collar and began to shake her violently, a manic look in his eyes. “He promised me – he _promised me –_ he’d never do his to me – Merlin – he has to be somewhere, doesn’t he? _Doesn’t he?!_ ”

“I don’t know, Arthur,” Gwen said, starting to sob as Arthur only shook her harder, “I don’t know, don’t ask me, I don’t have a clue where he is!”

“My lord,” a guard shouted, evidently concerned for Gwen’s safety, but with a rough shove Gwen was free, and Arthur was standing again, hands running through his own hair and tugging at the strands as he looked frantically around him.

“He has to be somewhere,” he muttered, his eyes wild. “He’s hiding, I know it. He told me so. This is just one of your jokes, isn’t it, Merlin?” he yelled suddenly, his voice echoing around the courtyard and causing the people to step back in fright. “I know you’re here. _I know you’re here!”_

Another figure was running towards him, and Arthur barely registered it until suddenly, Gaius was grasping him by the shoulders and forcing him to look into his eyes. “Arthur, you are in shock. Please come with me. I can help you.”

“I have to find him!” Arthur screamed into the old man’s face. “He’s here, I know it – I KNOW IT!”

“I urge you to calm yourself, my lord,” Gaius said, who had hardly flinched and was still holding him firmly. “Merlin is not here. There is no use calling for him. He is gone.”

Arthur fell silent at Gaius’ words, his turbulent thoughts too horrible to speak aloud. As he gazed into Gaius’ wise old face, he finally managed to absorb the impossible truth.

“He lied to me,” he said, his voice cracking. “I trusted him, Gaius. He was my friend.”

“I know,” said Gaius, tears escaping the lines around his eyes as Arthur half-collapsed onto him. Arthur started to cry, not caring that his father and the citizens were all looking on, his sobs coming short and sharp as he tried to keep it in, but Gaius only patted him on the back. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE 24/07/2016  
> Thank you to everyone who has read and shown their appreciation for this fic. Unfortunately, I regret to say that I don't have any plans to continue this. I've wracked my brains for months, dear readers, but I can't figure out a plot that could do the fic justice.  
> I'm working on [another fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5259821) at the moment, which is taking up all my time, and plus, I had always planned for this fic to end on a cliffhanger for the readers to imagine for themselves how it ends.  
> I know I have disappointed quite a few of you, but I would rather tell you this now than keep you hanging, or write a botched ending that would ruin the entire premise of the story. Thanks for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoy my other works :)

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains some pretty awful torture scenes in the beginning. If you wish to skip that part, please start reading from _Arthur wasn't sure when he had closed his eyes_.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] across the memory and the wave](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4640991) by [wastingawallflower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wastingawallflower/pseuds/wastingawallflower)




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